One more from the forthcoming book.
I wrote this when the genocide in Palestine had just begun,
and it was Thanksgiving and everyone was being so grateful.
Not that I have anything against gratitude, of course.
ٱلْحَمْدُ لِلَّٰهِ is like the number one
word in the Arabic language.
But I felt like, all right, we're
buying large turkeys, apparently.
And so again, it's speaks to the dissociation
of the reality I was living in through the news every day,
and then the joyousness of Thanksgiving
and the disassociation with that.
This is "Southern Sonnet," and I refer to the South here.
Ironically enough, this was two years ago.
The South is South Lebanon, which is being reoccupied now.
It wasn't back then, but it was being bombarded
and some journalists died.
Of course, we know that a lot of journalists
died in Palestine as well.
So when I refer to the South here, it's South Lebanon.
"Southern Sonnet."
I'm trying to write you a love song
but the news overspills as I boil coffee.
Suppose no ruins open a poem.
Remember the hidden cyclamens, the mountains.
I ask and fear my answers--
if I sharpen my rage, will it cut through public grief?
We feed on names and nightmares.
We repeat, when our children's children are born,
may your days be much more beautiful.
In the South, journalists are murdered and forbidden
rain falls mournful, like poets.
On this Northern continent, strangers
sell smiles with large turkeys and murderous thanks.
Here, we lose language and praise barren peace.
Here, we lose language and praise.
Barren, peace smiles with large turkeys and murderous thanks.
On this Northern continent, strangers
sell forbidden rainfalls.
Mournful like poets, in the South Journalists
are murdered and born.
May your days be much more beautiful, we repeat.
When our children's children are public grief,
we feed on names and nightmares.
If I sharpen my rage, will it cut through the mountains?
I ask and fear.
My answers?
Remember the hidden cyclamens, suppose no ruins.
Open a poem, the news overspills.
As I boil coffee, I am trying to write you a love song but.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you so much.
[APPLAUSE]